Pack Rat - Sins of the Father
by modus669
Summary: Pack Rat embarks on a mission to locate and destroy director Medford, the VIPER scientist responsbile for Pack Rat's own genesis, and the rise of a new breed of super soldier while also confronting his own inner demons and insecurities with the help of his closest friends. ((Note: some strong language, violence, blood, and sexual references within))
1. Chapter 1

_[[This work of Champions Online fan fiction includes appearances by characters played by people other than myself. I would like to personally thank doctordarkspawn, BombermanGOLD, narissis, and nulion5545 for permission and endorsement of this body of work._

_Again, this is purely a work of fan fiction, I do not own any rights to the Champions Online universe or any of the organizations, characters, or locations portrayed within. Please don't sue me. I'm broke anyway.]]_

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The sharp, staccato bark of Pack Rat's assault rifle ended as the last round of his magazine ejected, the chime of the brass clattering to the concrete floor echoing in the eerie silence of the warehouse. The brown-furred man-rat hybrid ducked down behind the crate which was providing him cover, slamming his back against it. Then he released and tossed aside the spent magazine, and withdrew a fresh one from the webbing at his thigh, slapping it into place.

"So much for the subtle approach," a deep voice growled nearby. Sajit's muzzle curled into a cartoonish canine grin. Only the werewolf's striking white teeth were clearly visible in the dim late afternoon light filtering in through the warehouse's dirty, discolored skylights. His midnight black fur otherwise obscured the rest of his form.

"It made them think twice about charging, didn't it," Pack Rat retorted, punctuating the sentence by jerking the slide on his rifle, chambering the first round of the new magazine.

Across the large cluttered room several heavily armored soldiers, their gear colored shades of yellow and green, the hallmarks of V.I.P.E.R, a terrorist organization bent on global domination, shuffled positions, trying to flank the two animalistic heroes without further exposing themselves. The groans of the wounded solder lying nearby, his leg perforated by one of Pack Rat's rounds, seemed the cause of their caution.

"Any suggestions," Pack Rat grumbled a query to his dark-furred companion as a stray energy bolt from one of the VIPER toops weapons skipped across the top of the crate he huddled behind, the electric-blue plasma spraying splinters.

"Now we do it my way," Sajit huffed as he hurdled over the crate, his canine legs launching the werewolf through the air.

"Crap…" Pack Rat said as he shouldered his rifle and spun, bracing it across the top of the crate.

The skulls strapped to Sajit's belt clattered creepily as he bounded across the warehouse, each one a repository for the werewolf's shamanic magic, they seemed to glow with a dim blue radiance in the darkened room. Each leap Sajit made easily cleared two to three of the tall shelves which separated the warehouse into loose rows, quickly closing the distance between him and the VIPER troops. The enemy soldier quickly noted Sajit's approach, and moved to level their energy rifles at him.

"Nuh-uh," Pack Rat snickered as he spotted the barrels of the VIPER troop's rifles sticking up from behind their cover. He pulled the trigger on his own weapon in a slow, deliberate rhythm, sending several projectiles down range with practiced accuracy. Several of the slugs struck their targets, sending the enemy weapons flying far off target if not completely out of hand. The others struck near enough to the VIPER troops to force them to flinch, accomplishing the desired effect regardless.

Sajit plowed into the VIPER troops as their shots flew wide, his leap adding momentum to the wolf's already formidable strength as blue plasma sizzled across the ceiling. The nearest soldier grunted in pain, falling limply to the side as Sajit's claws sliced four parallel gouges through his armor, tearing the flesh beneath. The four soldiers behind scrambled away in a panic, trying to bring their weapons to bear as Sajit moved past their wounded companion unslowed. His claws flashed again in the dim light, spraying sparks as they scraped the more heavily armored bits of the next soldier. This caused them to break cover as they back pedaled.

"Gotcha," Pack Rat smiled as he squeezed the trigger. His rifle flashed four times in quick succession, the weakest, unarmored parts of the VIPER troop's protective wear erupting in red blossoms. Brief howls of pain followed, followed by feeble groans as the soldiers collapsed, clutching their various wounds. Pack Rat lowered his rifle, checking the magazine as he stood and approached his wounded opponents. The rat-man frowned as he heard Sajit emit a low, throaty growl.

"They're down man. That's enough."

Sajit was towering over the nearest soldier, eyeing his bleeding wounds hungrily.

"Saj." Long Pause, "SAJIT!"

The werewolf's growl increased in intensity, his eyes locked on the wounded prey before him. His muscles tensed to pounce. His eyes glowed red in the muted light. The click-clack sound of Pack Rat's oversized revolver interrupted Sajit, as he found the barrel pressed to his temple.

"I'm not packing silver today, so I know this won't kill you, but you'll wake up with one hell of a headache."

Sajit paused, and rolls his eyes over to Pack Rat. The wounded VIPER soldiers held their breath, despite their pain, hoping silence alone might save them. Sajit began to growl at Pack but just as quickly shook his head, clearing his mind.

"Grrr... fine... take them in if you must," Sajit chuffed as he stalked away.

Pack Rat holstered his pistol and kicked away the trooper's energy rifles before they got any clever ideas.

"You're lucky the moon isn't more full or we might all be in a world of hurt, " The hybrid rat chided as he zip-tied the VIPER soldiers hands.

A short van-ride later, Captain Jenkins shook his head as Pack Rat & Sajit dragged the trussed up VIPER mercenaries into the police station. His bushy, wild mustache waggled agitatedly in contrast to the short, concrete-like buzz cut his greying head was sporting.

"What the hell is this," he barked, gesturing dramatically at the wounded captives decorating the precinct's floor, "they're bleeding all over the goddamn place!"

The other officers in the station shrank away from the two feral looking heroes as they tossed the last of their prizes on the precinct floor, but Jenkins stalked forward, undeterred, thrusting a finger into the chest of Pack Rat's green kevlar vest.

"You can't just go shooting people up and then drag them in here like this, you ugly freak!"

A collective gasp came from the other policemen and women in the station. It was common knowledge among those familiar with the hero scene that Pack Rat had some image issues and could sometimes be provoked by commenting on his appearance. Pack's eyes narrowed but he only slapped Jenkins' hand away in response.

"Didn't shoot people. I shot terrorists. And they'll live. You care what happens to 'em, then you call the damn ambulance."

With that the rat commando spun on his heel and tramped out of the station and to the streets of Millenium City. Several pedestrians stumbled at the sudden appearance of a black werewolf sporting a string of human skulls as a belt, and a bipedal rat wearing body armor and loaded for bear. Neither Pack rat nor Sajit paid any mind to the stares as they walked away from Precinct 9.

After a few moments, Sajit spoke up, "Woulda been easier to just kill 'em. As registered heroes we do have license to kill in self-defense you know?"

"Seen enough of that," Pack Rat replied flatly, "Besides, they were just goons. No need for fatalities in this case," Pack rat fished a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding and scanning it.

"Besides," Pack began again as he read, "my real target is almost within range now," his voice was uncharacteristically cold.

"Medford..." Pack sneered as he said the name.

Sajit shook his head as he spoke, "Your obsession with that guy will be the end of you Pack. You've already almost gotten yourself killed more than once chasing that bastard around. And I am not hauling your clawed up, shot up, bleeding body out of another snake den in the middle of fucking nowhere again."

Pack Rat rolled his eyes as Sajit continued to berate him about his mistakes. It all faded into the background as Pack concentrated on walking and studying the paper that he had lifted from one of the VIPER troops he and Sajit had cornered in the warehouse earlier. The print was partly faded from a combination of being crumpled and from sweat, having been hastily tucked into a rather unsavory location when the merc in question found himself without means of escape. The map was a topographical map, loaded with VIPER codes and jargon that the average person could never decipher, but that Pack Rat, having been trained by VIPER from the time he was pulled from the cloning vat, could effortlessly read. The map revealed the location of a facility tucked away in the Canadian wilderness, with only one keyword otherwise setting apart from any other bunker VIPER may have setup. "Huntress."

Pack knew what that meant. He had met what must have been the first of these "huntresses" several weeks ago. The encounter had left Pack Rat bloodied and limping. The human-cat hybrid displayed a speed and ferocity that Pack Rat could scarcely keep up with. The skirmish had ended in a draw with both rat and cat fleeing with terrible wounds. Director Medford, the geneticist responsible for the genesis of the project formerly known as "Dubielle," created experiment number 609 from a primordial mix of human, rat, and other rodent genetic material. Now known as Pack Rat, number 609 vowed vengeance for the six hundred and eight "failures" that VIPER had euthanized before him. This map told him that this lab was where Medford was producing the next wave of brainwashed cat-like super soldiers,

"...Pack? PACK!" Sajit was already shouting, "Are you even listening?"

"Of course I am," he wasnt.

"So what are you going to do now," Sajit's ears rolled forward inquisitively.

"I'm going to find my father," a vengeful smile crept across the ratling's features, "And kill him."


	2. Chapter 2

Three Days, two denied requests, and four "ultimate cheese lovers" from Darren's Pizza later, Pack Rat had secured clearance to travel to Canada to investigate the VIPER lab he was certain held both Director Medford and his newest strain of brainwashed, big-cat-hybrid clone super soldiers. Getting permission from UNTIL, the international peace keeping force which provided most of the rat commando's income had been tricky. Pack's intelligence had been acquired under questionable circumstances, at best, but the rat's intimate knowledge of VIPER tactics, systems, and methods, along with his track record of successfully thwarting the plans of the terrorist group in the past gave him enough leverage to push the request through relatively quickly.

Pack Rat was stuffing the last of the gear he would need for the trip into a sturdy duffel bag. His signature, oversized backpack would hold his weapons, ammunition, and a small stash of emergency supplies, but for an extended solo mission of the kind he intended to embark on her would need a bit more than his namesake would carry alone. Rations, cold weather clothing, and extra ammunition were all arranged neatly into the extra bag, which Pack was attempting to successfully zip closed when he heard a knock at the top of the stairs.

The rat hybrid's apartment had begun as little more than a dusty unfinished basement. Over the past few years Pack had spent a large part of his UNTIL fees furnishing, reinforcing, and installing equipment. Now the place was like a tiny underground fortress, complete with a small machine shop. Pack had to hide certain aspects of his home from his long-suffering landlord, like the presence of explosives, and thus kept the place lock up tight with mechanical and magnetic locks.

Pack approached the top of the stairs with his usual practiced level of caution, with a large handgun held casually behind his back as he flipped on the intercom.

"Speak, lest ye be spoken to," the rat quipped into the mic.

"It's Sajit," a slightly scratchy voice replied.

Pack checked the peephole, confirming the presence of his werewolf friend in his human form, clad in a dark suit. Pack took a moment to unlock the heavy steel door, opening it with a metallic squeal. The door was only part way open when Sajit barreled his way in. Even in his human form the lycanthrope was bulkier than the smaller rat man, who was easily shoved aside as Sajit stomped down the stairs and into the living room. Sajit was quickly followed, to Pack's surprise, by the red hooded form of Ken, his reptilian features concealed by his cowl. He shot Pack Rat an apologetic glance through slitted eyes as he slipped into the stairway on Sajit's heels.

Ken was an unusual case, even in a city where mutants, aliens, eldritch beings, and other metahumans were commonplace. He was a dimensional traveller, from a time and place far beyond our modern earth infected by a nanomachine virus that transformed him into a reptile and infused him with animalistic urges. The virus and said urges were mostly kept in check by cybernetic implants placed strategically throughout his body, suppressing the nanomachines and their psychological impacts. Ken had been one of Pack's fast friends for some time, serving as the rat's confidant as he dealt with many of the social issues that came along with being an animal-man which fell on the "icky" side of the attractiveness scale. Pack followed ken down the stairs. Sajit, his currently human eyes flaring angrily, was already ranting before Ken and Pack had entered the living room.

"What the hell, Pack," Sajit fumed, "You plan on taking on an entire VIPER facility by yourself? Are you insane?"

Pack Rat rested the hand holding his revolver on his hip, striking an indignant pose, "Well, it's the kind of job those creeps made me for to begin with. So I figured I'd put all their expensive training to good use. Who the hell told you anyway?"

"Umm... err..." Sajit shuffled his feet, running his hand through his long, dark hair.

"Sssaharrraa told us. She's worried about you Pack," Ken picked up the ball before Pack could glare too hard at Sajit, slipping his hood off. The swept back spines that ran along the centerline of his head wiggling slightly as they were set free.

"Dammit Sahara," Pack Rat grunted. He had told the pretty chimera only because she had been insistently curious about his plans. Had it been anyone other than the effervescent girl, Pack would have been livid at the breach of trust, but Sahara had a way of disarming the normally reticent rat.

Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door. Sajit was still yammering about the wisdom of Pack's plan as the ratling plodded back up the stairs to the door. He opened it without looking. A flurry of chocolate colored skin and feathers blew in, a supernatural gust of wind following not a moment behind. Pack scratched his temple with the barrel of his gun, only momentarily considering pulling the trigger.

Sahara scurried down the stairs, her catlike prehensile tail trailing behind, fanning the air agitatedly.

"Sajit! I told you not to come running down here," Sahara swatted a clawed hand a the tailored sleeve of Sajit's suit.

"And you," she fumed, pivoting on her heel to face Ken, "Couldnt you stop him? Pack'll be furious at me if he find out I let slip..."

"You'rre ssstanding in Pack'sss living rrroom, Ssaharra," Ken pointed out, a cheeky grin creeping across his scaled features, "He'sss ssstanding rrright behind you."

Sahara squealed and clapped her hands over her mouth. Her bird-like wings wrapped around her body, as if she could somehow hide within their folds.

Pack Rat sighed as he sauntered past Sahara, rolled over the back of one of his plush black leather chairs that were arranged around the similarly comfortable sofa and propped himself across it, feet dangling over the arm.

"I'm not mad, Sahara, just... geez, couldn't you wait until I was out of town before you started telling everyone?"

Sahara folded her wings back and leaned over Pack Rat, resting her hands on the arm of the chair.

"But what you're doing is, like, super crazy dangerous. I really really wish you wouldn't try to do this alone, Pack."

Pack faced the moral dilemma of looking into Sahara's gorgeous, pleading, violet eyes or staring down the front of the low-cut top she wore. He thought better of both, and looked away from the zebra-patterned beauty. She had been uncommonly kind to the ratling since they had met, never giving a second thought to what he considered his repulsive appearance. Occasionally he wondered if there could be something between them, but such thoughts were quickly banished once Sahara had started keeping company with a, to Pack's eyes, extremely buff cheetah hybrid named Haraka. His exotic, slightly primitive warrior ways must have been quite attractive to the young metahuman. Goddamn cat's. Pack found the bubbly mutant incredibly alluring, but deep down knew nothing would ever come of it, no matter how nice to him she was. He was, after all, just a disgusting rat, and she was... well... beautiful.

Pack sighed as Sahara peered at him, "Sahara, this is the type of thing they trained me to do, plus, this is my fight. It's personal. I couldn't dream of dragging any of you into it."

Sajit broke his momentary silence, stomping over to where Pack was lounging, "That is one hell of a thing for you to say to me, Pack."

There had been a few occasions when Sajit's control over his inner wolf had slipped, and Pack, along with Ken and Sahara, had been there to calm the werewolf down before any serious damage could be done. A rampaging werewolf who was also a registered superhero could set human-meta relations back twenty years. Pack withered a bit under Sajit's glare. Ken hissed uncomfortably from his place against the wall. Sahara blinked, then moved around the chair, laying a hand on Sajit's shoulder.

"Oh, don't fight guys, this isn't what I wanted," she pleaded, "This whole thing is my fault. I should have kept quiet."

"No, Sahara, you didn't do anything wrong, you're worried about a friend," Sajit protested, "Pack should have at least let us know what he was doing... so I could beat him senseless!"

Pack rolled his eyes.

"We all have ourrr demonsss," Ken chimed in, "Ssometimess you jussst have to face them alone or you'll neverrr be at peace."

Sajit and Sahara both gave Ken a long, skeptical look. The reptilian man eased off the wall, pacing thoughtfully around the room.

"Thisss man, thisss Medford, he isss rressponssible for much pain, yesss?"

Pack Rat nodded solemnly, "Six hundred and eight lives. Rat men like me. The one's that didn't meet his... expectations..." Pack choked on his words.

"They... he... killed them?" Ken asked, eyes widening slightly.

Pack nodded an affirmative.

"You neverrr told usss that," Ken said flatly.

"Those bastards," Sajit stomped the floor, "I officially do not feel bad about the time I ate that VIPER trooper anymore."

Sahara's eyes were wide in shock, "Oh my god. Six hundred Pack Rat's?" Her eyes were filling with tears, "How could anyone... even VIPER?"

"It was all part of Medford's project codenamed Dubiel. To create a soldier that could be mass-produced, infiltrate enemy facilities underground, and was... malleable."

Pack was referring to the intensive brainwashing that director Medford and VIPER had subjected the cloned rat men to. Any sign of resistance, or any failure to perform up to expectations, and the subject was summarily euthanized. Pack rat had watched the bodies of a dozen of his predecessors hauled away for incineration. Only his raw cunning had allowed him to hide that the mental conditioning wasn't taking. It was replaced, instead, by a burning desire for freedom and vengeance, in equal measure.

"I underrsstand now..." Ken said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Well I don't." Sajit snapped, glaring at Ken for a moment before turning to his rodent friend, "Pack, that place will be crawling with soldiers. One wrong move, just one, and they'll be on you like fleas on a cat."

Pack managed a slight grin at that. He and his canine ally were sometimes known to indulge in the occasional good-natured bit of cat humor together.

"I'll be fine, there's a hidden access that I can breach. It's underground at the base of the structure. Only someone like me could tunnel down to it. Even if I wanted to risk any of your lives doing this, I couldn't get you down underground to where I'm making my entrance."

Part of Pack's suite of special abilities that VIPER had engineered into him was the ability to burrow rapidly through earth and stone. Pack's inhumanly strong hands and nails were even able to break through steel reinforced concrete. Sometimes he wished the rest of him was as powerful.

Sahara was pacing nervously, her feline tail swishing behind her . Little arcs of lightning were sparking up and down her small, gazelle-like antlers. This only happened when she was angry, or otherwise terribly upset.

"Packy," she pleaded, "I have a terrible feeling about all this. Please, pleeease take Ken with you."

Sahar whirled around, facing ken, "You're a sniper, right? You could cover Packy from a distance with your rifle while he finds a different way for both of you to get in," she fidgeted hopefully.

"I could do thisss," Ken agreed.

Pack had threatened, on more than one occasion, threatened to marry Ken's rifle. The futuristic design and it's synergy with Ken's bionic implants made the reptilian soldier easily Pack's equal, if not his better, when it came to hitting a target down range. But then again, nothing quite beats the feeling of nailing a large target with a rocket launcher and watching the fireworks, according to the rat.

"No way," Pack waved the idea away as he rolled off the plush chair and back to his feet, "Even if I could find another way in on the surface, Ken picking off targets from a half mile away would throw up so many alarms it'd be like a kicked hornets nest inside once we got in. No. I need to be as deep inside as possible before they know anything is up or Medford will ghost and I'll lose this chance."

"Damn the logic, rat," Sajit interjected, "If anything happens to you I'll raise you're ass as a zombie and kill you again out of spite!"

That actually worried Pack a little, because there was a good chance that the mystically inclined lycanthrope could really do that.

"Then for my own sake I'll just have to make sure that nothing bad happens to me," Pack snickered as he returned to closing up the stubborn, slightly overstuffed duffel bag"

"You can't know that certain Pack. What if it's a trap? It probably is a trap you know," Sajit grumbled, now sitting on the back of Pack's black leather sofa, arms folded defiantly.

"Maybe not, Saj, but I do know one thing for certain. If I don't do this, I'm never gonna sleep through the night again. I'm tired of waking up hearing the screams, voices just like mine. I'm tired of seeing the terror in eyes just like mine, just before the lights go out. I have to stop them. I have to stop him."

The other three went silent, each bearing a somber expression. Only an upset sniffle from Sahara pierced the uncomfortable quiet.

"I only wish," Pack smiled back at his friends despite the awkward moment, "That this new breed wasn't based on cats. Why does it always have to be cats?"

Pack eyed Sahara, grinning, thinking about Haraka, the studly cheetah hybrid she'd been spending time with lately, knowing the underlying meaning would likely fly past those present.

"Why's it always gotta be cats?"


	3. Chapter 3

Sajit, Ken, & Sahara had seen Pack Rat off at the airfield. The high tech VTOL jet was already fueled, humming, and ready to take off when the group arrived. Ken & Sajit shook Pack's hand, clapping him on the shoulder, trying to hide their concern and worry behind the usual array of macho posturing and gestures. Sahara stood a few steps away, rolling her eyes and chuckling at the silly boys as they attempted to look cool.

Pack pulled away from Sajit and Ken, hefting his combat pack onto one shoulder. Before he could reach down to lift his duffel bag Sahara lurched forward, throwing her arms around Pack's torso and burying her face in his chest. Her tail wagging frantically behind her. The rat froze. After a long moment, Sahara looked up at Pack, her bright violet eyes glimmering in the midday sunlight. Pack couldn't quite read the expression o her face. A few feet away Sajit nudged ken with his elbow. After another moment, Sahara broke the spell with two simple words.

"Come back."

Pack blinked, then nodded his response wordlessly as he lifted his duffel and turned to board the jet that would take him to Force Station Steel Head, an allied Royal Canadian Mounted Police installation deep in the Canadian wilderness that would be Pack's last stop in any place civilized for awhile.

Sajit, Ken, and Sahara moved away to a safe distance as the jet's engines spun up to speed, creating a burst of hot air which ruffled the hair and feathers of Pack's closest friends as they watched the jet begin to lift off. Pack could see he trio through the window as he settled in for the flight. Sajit was sullenly glaring at the jet, the jacket of his black tailored suit held shut against the wash of wind from the jet. Ken was waving goodbye, his red cloak flapping in the strong breeze. Sahara stood nearby, that same inscrutable look from before etched on her features. Pack watched his friends until the jet pivoted in air and aimed for the sky, quickly gaining speed on its way from old Detroit to the great white north.

Pack found himself the only passenger aboard the flight. The rest of the space on board had been reserved for military supplies destined for Force Station Steel Head. This suited the rat just fine as he unfolded a topographical map of the area he would be approaching. On the surface, the VIPER installation would resemble little more than a collection of rental cabins tucked away in the wildernesses. The would superficially seem nothing more then a remote getaway for tourists on a budget. Probably even had a website, with no vacancy or booking currently available, of course. Pack knew, however, that the truth would lie beneath in a series of interconnected bunkers where VIPER scientists would be conducting their research and preparing to unleash director Medford's latest creations.

Pack had already encountered what he presumed to be the first of these 'huntresses' during an operation a few months ago. What Pack Rat had first thought to be a simple armored car heist along the highways outside Millennium City had turned out to be a VIPER mission, likely a test for the new creation. Pack had taken cover from the VIPER soldier's energy weapons when a feral yowl pierced the air. A blur of golden fur, wild unkempt hair, and black leather hurled itself over the car the brown-furred ratling was hiding behind. The surprised rodent had only a split second to hurl himself to the side as the savage creatures claws cleaved the air where had once been huddled. The ensuing exchange of small arms fire and close quarters fighting had left both the aggressive feline and Pack Rat bloodied and beaten, with both retreating to lick their wounds as local SWAT forces arrived as backup.

Pack frowned at the memory of that painful stalemate. He knew it was possible, even likely, that more such beings had been created and brought online. Pack didn't relish the thought that he might have to kill one or more of them. Killing VIPER troopers was one thing. They knew better. But these feline hunters were much like Pack, created to be tools for the plans of evil men. He liked even less the idea of what those genetically enhanced cat warriors might do to him should they get the drop on him.

Furthermore, and Pack had managed to successfully conceal this fact from his friends, the rat knew that the whole thing could be, nay, was likely a trap. Cornering those troops in the warehouse. The handily obtained intelligence report. It had all been too easy. VIPER may be a sadistic power hungry group but they are certainly not stupid. Pack knew that it was probable that Medford had intentionally leaked the information to draw out his prodigal son, his last failed experiment, his last loose end.

The rat sighed as he folded up the map and tucked it back into his duffel. There was a good solid chance that he wasn't going to come back from this mission. Regardless of that fact he was oddly comfortable with the sense of impending doom that was looming over him.

Despite the rodent's best efforts to acclimate to regular human, and superhuman society, Pack had endured numerous prejudices. In a world of exotic mutants, shape shifters, aliens, and other unusual beings, there was just something in the collective subconscious that shoved rats, regardless of how intelligent or humanoid they may be, straight into the category of vermin. This apparently made most of the rules of common courtesy most intelligent beings enjoyed simply not apply to the hybrid. Pack had long ago lost count of how many bubonic plague jokes and comments about his hygiene had been carelessly tossed his direction in the years since his escape from the VIPER lab that had created him. Now, a good day was simply one in which he wasn't called ugly, dirty, and thrown out of a restaurant. A great day only involved one of the three things.

Even with all the abuse, the man-rat still desperately craved acceptance. He had found some measure of it among his three close friends. Sajit the werewolf was equally surly to just about everyone, which put Pack on equal footing with everyone else. The good natured squabbling between the two provided hours of entertainment for them both. Ken was much more of a kindred spirit in Pack Rat's eyes. Having his appearance so drastically altered from his former human form to his current scaly state had placed Ken in a position that was much the same as Pack's. Ken had been a shoulder to cry on more than once after particularly cruel days.

Sahara and Pack had become friends much more recently, and the winged girl had remained, for the most part, a mystery to the rat-man. She readily confessed to having worked as a prostitute earlier in her life after running away from the orphanage she had been left with as an infant. Her youthful appearance and demeanor, while by no means childish, wouldn't suggest at all to the casual observer that she had ever been in such a line of work. Pack had befriended the unusual girl mostly because of her optimistic attitude. Pack found it infectious, feeling forced out of whatever funk he might be experiencing at the moment by her presence alone. She had never shied away from the rat hybrid, and Pack often chided himself for entertaining the odd romantic thought about Sahara, especially since she had been spending time with Haraka. The whole thing would have probably been easier if Haraka was more of a jerk, but as it turned out he was really polite and not inclined to try and eat the rat like some other cat folk.

Pack fidgeted uneasily, suddenly a lot less at peace with himself. Even with the support of his friends one things that Pack had a hard time getting past was the lack of female companionship. Sajit and Ken both were involved in long term relationships, thus leaving Pack the fifth wheel at times. It weighed on him in an unhealthy sort of way, an oppressive sort of despair that even Sahara's viral optimism was hard pressed to completely dispel. Pack at once resented the rejection he continually faced, and loathed himself for being powerless to do anything meaningful about it. The circular logic would often quickly result in dangerous bouts of depression, which for a heavily armed soldier of fortune could be a tricky thing to handle.

"Come back."

Pack Rat jerked awake. The image of Sahara's deep violet eyes burned in his mind. He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples, trying to shake her image and her parting words from his mind.

"Now is not the time, Pack," he growled at himself quietly, "Get your head on straight."

Pack stretched. His joints and muscles creaked in protest. Being wedged between crates of ammunition and MRE's wasn't the most uncomfortable place he has ever slept, but it sure wasn't winning any awards either.

Pack crept from his position in the cargo bay of the large aircraft and padded his way up to the cockpit. The UNTIL communications officer jumped a bit when the rat came into view, having likely almost forgotten about their furry passenger. The soldier took a deep breath and shot Pack a sheepish look. The rat settled into the seat across from the officer and plucked an unused headset from the equipment console, holding it to his ears awkwardly. These things just weren't made for people whose ears were perched nearly on top of their head.

"How long to Steel Head," Pack asked, his voice carrying through the headset over the roar of the military jet's engines.

"ETA ten minutes, sir," the communications officer replied.

"Force Station Steelhead this is UNTIL transport zulu five niner requesting approach vector," the pilot's voice crackled over the headset.

"This is Steel Head zulu five niner, the landing pad is clear, you have permission to land. Transmitting approach vector now. Please follow landing approach bravo six tango from the southwest," a cheerful voice replied.

"Roger that Steel Head, that's bravo six tango coming in from the southwest, zulu five niner out."

Pack nodded to the comms officer and made his way back to where his gear was stashed. He quickly changed into his cold weather clothing, layering a heavy goose down jacket, insulated pants, boots, and his custom gloves over his vest and lighter clothes. He eyed his hands as he slipped the open-fingered gloves on. Two thick fingers and a thumb, each capped by steel-hard, blunted claws.

"Not even normal for a rat," Pack grumbled.

He felt the plane slow and begin to descend as it approached the landing pad. Shouldering his combat backpack, and lifting his heavy duffel bag, Pack tried to shake the remnants of doubt and regret from his mind.

"You've almost got him," Pack whispered to himself, "Just a little bit farther, and he won't hurt anyone ever again. No matter what happens to me... Medford must be stopped."

"Come back."

Pack winced, forcing back Sahara's words, focusing his thoughts on the grim task ahead. As the jet touched down on Force Station Steel Head's landing pad he silently began to count, steeling his thoughts. Slowly numbering off one count for each innocent ratling slain at the whim of a madman.

"One... two... three..."


	4. Chapter 4

Pack Rat spent most of the day at Force Station Steel Head preparing to head out into the wilderness. He spent some time comparing their maps to his own. The Royal Canadian troops on site were very surprised to learn that VIPER had managed to slip their research facility in under their noses completely unnoticed. This didn't surprise Pack at all.

"Never underestimate VIPER's ability to slither in somewhere undetected," the rat chuckled to the soldier he was comparing notes with.

After a hot meal at the station's mess hall, tastefully taken away from where the other soldiers were eating, Pack hit the showers for what might be the last hot water he'd be seeing for some time, possibly ever. The Canadian troops already present cleared out nervously as the rat padded quietly into the area and began to strip down. Apparently none of them possessed the fortitude to deal with a naked rat-man that day. This suited Pack just fine. The less disgusted stares the better. He grabbed a towel and headed in, cranking on the hot water. Pack had always taken issue with the whole "dirty rat" stereotype. Consequently he compensated by keeping himself impeccably clean whenever possible. The pending likelihood of being without access to appropriate facilities for an extended period of time made his skin crawl.

After scrubbing himself down thoroughly Pack leaned forward, resting his palms against the walls of the shower stall and staring down, standing beneath the hot spray and breathing the steam in deeply. His pink, hairless tail swayed in slow arcs behind him as he let the near-scalding water run over him for a time. The man-rat had the body of an Olympic gymnast. His form was lean and toned from a combination of intensive physical training and genetic engineering. He wasn't as heavily furred as one might expect of an animal-kin. Only his head, forearms, and legs bore a coating of unruly brown fur. The rest of Pack's body, tail excepted, was covered in a fine layer of soft brown velvet. This created the illusion that he was darkly tanned, but any sort of touch would reveal otherwise. Not like that ever happened.

Some impatient grumbles from outside the showers reached the rat's sensitive ears and broke Pack from his trance. He exited the shower stall, dried off, dressed, and left, easing past several uncomfortable, anxious looking soldier who had been waiting, more or less patiently, for him to finish. One of the men sneered and uttered a mumbled, derogatory comment as Pack slid by. The rat flashed him a glare from his bright, solid green eyes, and the rude soldier was hurried into the showers by his less brazen brothers in arms.

"So much for civility. Guess I've worn out my welcome here," Pack mused to himself quietly as he walked back to the mostly empty section of the barracks where he was allowed to rest before leaving for the VIPER base. He looked at the gear laid out neatly across several bunks. The arsenal that the ratling consistently lugged around was a testament to both his organizational skills as well as his strong shoulders. All of Pack's weapons were custom designs either based on the stash of VIPER weaponry he had absconded with when he had escaped from the training facility he had been raised in or constructed from scratch himself in the years since.

His assault rifle was a sleek, futuristic looking piece of work which fired 7.62mm rounds at a rate that could only be described as frenzied. The mounted scope was calibrated for Pack Rat's unique sense of vision, making most anyone else looking through it slightly nauseous but affording the rodent soldier uncanny accuracy even when fired on full automatic. Pack tinkered with and pampered the gun religiously, and it showed in the weapon's performance. The firearm's action was smooth as silk, and had never once jammed, no matter what conditions Pack was forced to do battle in, whether it be the dusty radiated waste lands of Burning Sands near Area 51 or the sweltering swamps of Monster Island.

Next to the rifle was his revolver, affectionately referred to as, "Wynona." The huge hunk of steel mounted an obscenely long, thick barrel, occasionally prompting jokes about compensation from Sajit, who never did put much stock in firearms. Wynona was custom forged to fire fifty caliber machine gun rounds rather than more conventional loads. As a result of its large ammunition the cylinder could only hold four rounds, but Pack considered Wynona a weapon of last resort anyway. Firing the revolver would shatter the hand and wrist of any normal person, but Pack's hands had been engineered to claw through earth and stone, thus making Wynona's recoil more than manageable for the hybrid warrior. The satisfying report of the monstrous handgun firing and the subsequent near disintegration of anything but the most heavily armored targets was music to the rat's ears.

Next to the firearms lay Pack's assortment of ammunition. In a world of mutants, demons, aliens, and other unusual creatures, it paid to be prepared. Thus, the rat kept custom loads for all occasions. His pride and joy was what he called the "catch all special." Iron and silver flechettes suspended in holy water, with a penetrating core of tungsten. Thus far they had served well when facing down anything from werewolves to vampires to demons. Only problem was they were expensive and time-consuming to make. That, and father Connelly down at Our Lady of Serenity had threatened to shoot Pack if he raided the holy water font one more time. So much for turning the other cheek. Thus Pack tended to keep those reserved for emergencies, loaded into Wynona's .50 caliber rounds. For facing down VIPER, however, conventional armor-piercing rounds were usually more than adequate, and Pack's extra duffel bag was loaded with those.

Next to the sorted ammunition Pack Rat had laid out his heavier ordinance. This consisted first of a normal (for him) assortment of fragmentation, concussion, and smoke grenades. This was overshadowed, though, by the stack of small blocks of plastic explosives with attached remote detonators. Pack didn't often bring this particular type of favor to the party, but besides dealing with Medford he knew he would have to shut down the vats and equipment the snake was using to create the huntresses permanently. Pack had to pull some strings within the military to get hold of the explosives in that quantity, and wasnt looking forward to the favors he'd have to do in return to make up for it later. But then again, none of that would matter much if he didnt make it back. Small comfort.

Last, but certainly not least, in the rat's bag of tricks was his rocket launcher. The long tubular apparatus collapsed down to a fraction of it's functional size when not in use. It was, in Pack's estimation, the perfect way to get the party started right as long as collateral damage wasn't a consideration. For this mission, it certainly was not.

One quick weapons check and one immensely tedious repacking job later and the bundled up rodent was on his way. Pack was granted the use of one of the Mounties' snow mobiles. As he crested a large hill just to the northwest of Steel Head he stopped the growling, tracked machine and looked back through the blowing snow. The station loomed large through the blowing powder, a bastion of safety in the howling Canadian tundra. Pack sighed at the prospect of leaving it, and the hot water, behind.

"No turning back now, Packy," he convinced himself.

Pack revved the engine of the snow mobile, lowered his snow goggles, and sped away, throwing up a spray of white powder as he steered the machine towards his goal. The rat set his jaw in grim determination against regret, doubt, fear, and the biting cold of the northern wilderness.

"See you real soon dad," Pack growled against the wind, "Hope you're ready for me!"


	5. Chapter 5

Pack rat had ditched the snow mobile several miles back. He told himself that it was because the sound of the engine, as it purred across the snow drifts, could draw unwanted attention from any patrols VIPER may have stationed around the research lab. While that partly true the real reason was that it ran out of gas. The rodent has some suspicion that he had been the victimof a prank from the less tolerant of Steel Head's soldiers. He promised himself swift revenge should he make it back. Pack trudged towards his destination, sullenly cursing the biting wind which stung his sensitive nose as he made his way across the drifts. Fur or no fur Pack was a city rat and this arctic explorer nonsense was for the birds. Specifically penguins.

Pack had momentarily taken shelter from the wind among the thick branches of a low-growing evergreen tree. His map was unfolded, held in place by a few rocks while he regained his bearings. The hidden research facility should have been about five miles west of his current position. As the ratling planned his approach, noting the location the buried access hatch should be at, an unfamiliar scent wafted through the air, reaching Pack Rat's acute nose. Aftershave, steel, and leather. The shivering rat froze in place, whiskers twitching, ears pivoting as he tried to pinpoint the source of the intrusion. After a long tense moment the faint sound of a distant foot crunching through the snow reached the alert rodent's radar-like ears. Pack crept through the branches of the tree he was huddled beneath. He pokes his muzzle through the foliage and breathed deeply, again picking up the scent of man on the wind. He peeked between the boughs, eyes aimed in what he was certain was the proper direction. He saw nothing. Pack frowned and lowered his snow goggles, then gazed again across the now. Still nothing. The soft sound of a boot crushing snow, closer now, again reached the ratling.

Pack reached back and drew his rifle. While clutching the firearm in one hand, he plucked his silencer from the clip on his belt and screwed it into place. Pack shouldered the rifle and waited, aiming his trusty weapon at the approaching scent and sounds. He slowed his breathing, clearing his mind and focusing his thoughts as his one time masters had trained him to do, then peered through the enhanced sight of his rifle. The moment stretched into an eternity as Pack waited patiently for any sign of his target. He watched and listened while taking slow, deep, deliberate breaths. The sound of snow trod underfoot came again. Pack adjusted his aim, but still saw nothing.

Realization dawned and the man-rat tilted his weapon down slightly and fired, walking a line of fire across a nearby snow drift. Large puffs of loose powder erupted from the impact of the rounds as Pack's weapon coughed rapidly. Three humanoid shapes were faintly outlined by the spray of snow. Their forms were otherwise completely invisible. The body posture displayed indicated significant surprise.

"Gotcha," Pack chortled to himself as he adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger of his weapon.

Three quick shots sailed through the air towards their targets. The jacketed rounds pierced the light-bending armor of the invisible men easily. Each one spun and fell in an almost coordinated manner. A heartbeat later their forms shimmered and became fully visible. The snow around the men was spotted with red, and a dark red stain was growing slowly beneath each one.

Pack lowered his rifle and broke cover, dashing a few short yards to check his enemies for signs of life. His aim had been true. His shots had pierced cleanly through their vitals. He put another round into each one's torso for good measure. He knelt over the fallen men. Their full-faced helmets, tight-fitting armor suits, and cloaking devices identified these men as VIPER infiltrators. These trained martial artists were often used to penetrate enemy facilities, quietly eliminate a target, and exit unnoticed.

Pack hissed through his teeth, agitated by the development. Infiltrators in the area could only mean that security at the research facility was tighter than he had anticipated. Pack could no longer afford to travel above ground. He could be spotted too easily and and it had been pure luck that these three had approached from upwind. Pack rat slung his rifle and ran back to where his map and duffel bag were lying. He quickly stashed the map in his coat, then spent a moment strapping the heavy extra bag to clips on his belt, securing it to his posterior tightly.

"I hate having to do this," he complained quietly, "It's so dirty..."

Pack tightened his goggles, and with one last frustrated sigh crouched low and tore into the ground with his claws. His inhumanly strong hands gouged huge chunks of earth away with frightening speed. The rat-man leaned forward, letting instinct draw him into the embrace of the earth. A spray of dirt, roots, and small rocks exited behind the burrowing rodent as he plunged into the ground, quickly leaving the bright, snowy surface behind. A few moment later, only a disturbed patch of ground and a rapidly fading rumble would mark the rat's passing.

Once underground, Pack instinctively steered in the direction of the VIPER research facility. His unusual physiology and custom designed genes afforded him almost impossible speeds when tunneling through the earth. The rat man had endured more than his fair share of bugs bunny jokes as a result, and so was usually loathe to employ this particular talent without a very good reason. This qualified. Pack knew that the patrol he encountered would be missed before too long. Even if they weren't found the facility would be on alert once VIPER suspected something was amiss. And if that happened before he found director Medford, Pack would lose his only chance at vengeance.

Pack Rat practically swam through the earth towards his destination, a sense of urgency, bordering on panic, driving him onward.

"Damn... should have let that patrol just walk by," Pack cursed his itchy trigger finger. He never had been able to resist taking down VIPER troops when the opportunity arose. Considering the years of abuse and attempted brainwashing it was an almost reflexive response to their presence.

"Can't be helped now," he murmured to the dirt as he passed unseen through the tundra, his destination looming closer and closer...


	6. Chapter 6

The earth, ice, and stone parted before Pack Rat as he tunnelled towards his destination. His genetically enhanced senses flooded his mind with a torrent of information as he moved easily through the ground. The burrowing rodent could perceive his environment and the nearby surface nearly as well as if he were standing in the open. The trees, the footfalls of the animals above, the low vibrating, mechanical hum of the underground VIPER research lab, were all clear to Pack Rat as he approached his target.

An almost giddy sense of anticipation gripped the rodent as he neared the VIPER facility. He could feel the weight of the false cabins on the surface, and hear the thrum of their concealed elevator entrances as they ferried personnel into the labs below. Pack knew from his time spent in similar installations as a young rat that VIPER tended to use a limited number of modular designs for most of their structures. It reduced construction costs. If this lab followed that pattern there would be an access hatch he could use to bypass the external security.

The ratling circled the area cautiously, occasionally poking his head up to check for activity along the surface. As expected VIPER troops disguised as tourists meandered around the cabins. Pack could also feel, but not see, the steps of several more groups of invisible infiltrators patrolling the perimeter of the false cabins. If taking out that patrol a few miles back had alerted VIPER to the rat's presence they weren't letting on yet. Pack was unsure whether to be worried or relived. He opted for the former and slid back into the soil, diving deep down into the earth, angling for the exterior of the large modular structure of the underground laboratory.

Pack Rat felt his way along the exterior of the smallish octagonal structure he knew would hold the hatch he sought. After a few moments, he found what he was looking for. The small hatch would have originally been used by workers to make it easy to get in and out during assembly. Securing such a small opening once the room was assembled deep underground would not be a priority. Any kind of major assault would originate from the surface, so most of the security would be focused topside at the main entrance and escape tunnels.

Pack cleared away the dirt around the heavy lever that latched and sealed the small portal. He listened at the hatch for a long moment, senses straining for any sign of activity in the room beyond. Hearing no sounds beyond, he gripped the lever and heaved. The latch groaned in protest for a moment before it finally lurched and gave way. A shiver of panic raced up Pack's spine at the noise. He waited another moment. Long tense seconds ticked away in his head as the ratling strained to hear any sign that someone inside was alerted by the noise.  
Nothing.

Releasing his held breath Pack finished clicking open the release and pushed the hatch in carefully. The little doorway was positioned partway up the wall. As the rat eased through the hatch a stream of dirt and pebbles trickled in behind him. Pack cautiously closed the little door behind him as his senses adjusted. There was always a period of a few seconds when Pack emerged from the earth as his senses switched from hyper-sensitive touch and tactile mode back to being more sight and scent oriented.

The darkened room Pack had entered quickly came into focus. It was a storage room of some kind. Large wooden crates were stacked along the plain brushed steel walls and in the center of the room. Pack Rat looked over the labels on the crates. They appeared to be medical supplies, all fairly mundane in nature. A single metal door lead out of the room. Pack adjusted his gear and shook the dust from his fur, quietly cursing his disheveled and dirty state. After re-securing his gear he left a single c4 charge tucked behind several of the supply crates, well out of sight. These supplies were likely part of the cloning and genetic engineering process, and there was no sense risking them get put to any use by VIPER when this was all said and done.

Pack approached the door and listened. Only the quit hum of the flourescent lighting beyond the door could be heard. Pack eased the door open, peeking out. The hallway looked empty, but Pack quickly noted the security camera at the intersection nearby, its small, black dome protruding innocuously from the ceiling. The hybrid hero cursed under his breath. There was no way for him to clear the length of the hallway without the camera picking him up. If this facility was anything like the one he was created in, he reasoned, the main research lab would be straight down that hallway. To either side would be living facilities for he scientists, and barracks for the soldiers housed at the site. Pack pondered for a moment. He could shoot the camera, but that would raise an alarm. He could lay down a cloud of smoke with a grenade, but ultimately that would produce the same effect. Pack stared hard at the hallway and the camera for a long moment.

"Fuck it," was the final conclusion.

Pack unslung his rifle, slipped the barrel through the crack in the door, and peered through his scope, centering the finely tuned crosshairs on the small black dome that housed the camera. A deep breath, released slowly, and a gentle squeeze of the trigger. The rifle coughed once through the silencer, and the small black dome shattered. A small spray of sparks marked the passing of the security camera. Pack waited a single heartbeat, then bolted into the hallway.

The rat reached the intersection and threw his back against th wall to his right, checking corners in a practiced manner. The hallways to the left and right remained empty, for the moment, and nothing appeared mediately ahead, but that hallway had a gentle curve to it that obscured line of sight past thirty feet or so. Markings along the wall indicated that the hallway ahead lead to the labs as expected, so the ratling disregarded the other two paths and forged on ahead.

Only a few steps down the gently curving hallway klaxon sirens began to blare. Small red lights tucked into the ceiling began to flash. Pack swore out loud. and picked up the pace. He had hopes to have more time before the alarm was raised. A few more hurried steps and the ratling's acute hearing picked up the sound of booted feet on the steel floor ahead, a squad of VIPER soldiers by the sound of their armor and weapons rattling. Pack skidded to a halt. This hallway was completely exposed, no cover at all. He scanned for doorways he might be able to duck into, and finding none, went to plan B.

"Alarms already set off, so who cares?" Pack chuckled to himself as he plucked a grenade from his belt.

The metallic chime of the grenades arming pin flying away echoed in between the wail of the alarms. Pack had whipped the grenade in a hard sidearm pitch, and the rounded explosive went spinning down the hall, hugging the curve and skittering out of sight around the bend. Pack heard a startled cry and held his head, protecting his sensitive ears as the munition exploded. Pack jogged past the shredded, fallen forms of several viper troops lying motionless and sped towards the research lab. A twinge of regret stung the back of his mind.

Pack forced aside any qualms about his methods by quietly reminding himself who and what he was up against. As he forged on he could hear voices behind him. Troops from the barracks most likely, Pack thought. He picked up his pace, pausing only briefly to shoot out another two tiny security cameras along his path. No sense giving the enemy any unnecessary advantages.

Moments later, the brown-furred rat man reached another intersection. He could still hear the voices behind him as the VIPER troops from the barracks mustered to pursue him. As Pack threw his back against the wall to do his usual corner check something even more alarming than the soldiers chasing him reached him. The scent of feline was on the air. Pack had never truly had a problem with cat folks in general, other than the cat jokes he shared in good fun with Sajit. Which was a good thing because Millenium City boasted an unusually large number of cat hybrids of various breed. In this situation, though, with his blood pounding, adrenalin flowing, and knowing what he was up against, the smell instantly set his teeth on edge.

No sooner had Pack Rat processed this new information were his fears confirmed. A tall, wiry form whirled around the corner. The feline huntress was bounding on all fours at speeds Pack Rat could never hope to match. The only thing that saved the rat in that moment was the smooth metal floor of the VIPER compound. The cat woman skittered across the brushed steel flooring as she attempted to wheel around on Pack Rat. The skid sent her about fifteen feet off course as her bare clawed feet and hands failed to gain purchase for just one second. The shape was familiar to Pack, he had faced this opponent once before on the streets of Millenium City. The genetically enhanced hunter bore golden fur with tabby-like marking and stripes, with a mane of wild, unkempt honey-colored hair tied back with a cord of some kind. Her slightly muzzled face was locked in a sneer, revealing sharp fangs and a hateful green-eyed gaze.

Pack Rat swung his rifle around, leveling the barrel at his assailant. In that instant the cat's claws regained traction and she hurled herself towards the wall. Pack's shot missed by inches, followed by three more impossibly close shots that failed to find their mark, each one sparking against the wall behind the cat. The cat-girl's acrobatic display kept her a fraction of a second ahead of the skilled marksman as she bounced form wall to wall, closing in on her prey. The cat plucked a large knife from a sheath on the thigh of her tight black tactical suit as one last tumble brought her within arms reach of the rodent. Her low growl turned into a feral shriek as the blade lashed out at the rat.

Pack brought his rifle up to block the incoming attack. The knife struck the rat's weapon with brutal force, sending up a spray of sparks as it scraped along the metal surface of the gun. Pack was momentarily pinned to the wall by the impact, and the knife's edge was chillingly close to his throat as he was driven back.

The brown-furred commando regained his footing and wrenched his rifle to the side, deflecting the huntress to one side as she tried to force her weapon pat Pack's gun and into his jugular. Both combatants staggered a step or two before righting themselves. The enraged feline was a split second faster, and launched back towards her prey. Pack Rat was forced to block a flurry of quick slashes with his firearm. A little voice in the back of his head chided him for letting his precious rifle take such a beating, while a louder and, thankfully, more sensible voice was screaming at him to stop backpedaling and do something!

Pack launched forward in between the furious cat's attacks planting the length of his rifle across her chest and shoving with all the ratly might he could muster. Again the steel flooring worked to his advantage as the cat girl's clawed feet failed to catch on the smooth metal. Pack seized the advantage and surged several steps, slamming his feline opponent against the wall, pinning her. The huntress growled, and though her range of motion was restricted, she managed to rake the claws of her left hand across Pack Rat's right arm. The this material of pack's cold weather jacket was shredded as four shallow gashes were opened in his arm. The ratling squealed as a red stain began to spread, blood soaking the downy material of his coat.

"You won't get to father! I won't let you!" the raging cat woman shrieked and spat.

"Dammit woman! He's using you just like he tried to use me!" Pack punctuated the statement with a knee to the cat's abdomen.

"Father loves us! He's proud of us!" the Huntress howled as she struggled to force the rat away from her.

"We don't have to do this! I don't wan to f-" Pack's sentence was cutoff by a squeak of pain when the cat wiggled a hand free and plunged her knife into the rat hybrid's shoulder. The blade had slipped past his vest and bit deeply into the muscle.

Pack kneed the cat woman hard in the abdomen again then kicked away. He let go of his rifle, letting it clatter to the floor as the momentum of his kick carry him back a few steps. The predatory feline recovered from the knee to her midsection and was on top of the rat in an instant, fangs bared and claws ready to shred him to pieces.

Wynona, on the other hand, had other ideas. The oversized revolver roared, its report drowning out even the blaring alarms for a moment. The huntress staggered back a step, clutching her stomach. The wall behind her was spattered with red droplets in a wide spray pattern. Pack winced as the recoil from his custom fifty caliber handgun made his left shoulder ache, despite having fired with his right hand.

There was a long, quiet moment, broken only by the blaring of the facilities alarms. Pack Rat and his enemy locked gazes. Blood dribbled from the tears on the rats forearm, and began to pour from between the fingers of the huntress where she clutched her stomach. The feline bore a look of shock and surprise. A sympathetic, regretful look passed over the rodent's face, even as he held the revolver leveled at the cat.

"I'm sorry..." Pack whispered.

The cat's expression turned from surprise to hatred. She shrieked a desperate, gurgling yowl and lunged forward, reaching out for pack with claws coated in her own crimson blood. The ratling grimaced as he pulled the trigger again. Wynona's barrel flashed. The massive round struck the huntress in the chest, painting the wall behind her with more ruby red droplets. Pack stared as the cat woman fell back against the wall and slid to the floor, smearing blood as she collapsed. She gasped a few final, rasping breathes and then was gone, her eyes glazed over and blank.

Pack hesitated for a moment. Mixed emotions were running wild through his mind until the sounds of booted feet rushing down the hall behind him and the stinging pain of the knife in his shoulder snapped him to attention. Pack reached around his neck awkwardly, struggling for a moment to grasp the blade buried in his shoulder. He hissed as he pulled the knife out and tossed it aside. Scooping up his rifle and holstering Wynona, Pack made a move towards the labs, a righteous anger welling up within him and driving him forward.

"Medford! Where are you?" Pack shouted as he strode onward.


End file.
